The Killer eBook

“But,” we “saved our face,”
“you’ll have to behave when we get there!”

So, as has been said, Mithradates Antikamia Briggs
brought up the rear.

Arrived at the tree the whole procession drew into
a half circle. We unblocked the opening, and
the Invigorator was driven to a spot beneath it so
each person could take his turn at standing on the
seat and peering down the hole. The eyes still
glowed like balls of fire.

Next the dachshunds were lifted up one by one and
given a chance to smell at the game. This was
to make them keen. Held up by means of a hand
held either side their chests, they curled up their
hind legs and tails and seemed to endure. Mrs.
Kitty explained that they had never been so far off
the ground in their lives, and so were naturally preoccupied
by the new sensation. This sounded reasonable,
so we placed them on the ground. There they sat
in a circle looking up at our performances, a solemn
and mild interest expressing itself in their lugubrious
countenances. A dachshund has absolutely no sense
of humour or lightness of spirits. He never cavorts.

By sounding carefully with a carriage whip we determined
the depth of the hole, and proceeded to cut through
to the bottom. This was quite a job, for the
oak was tough, and the position difficult. Tommy
had ascended the tree, and proclaimed loudly the first
signs of daylight as the axe bit through. Mine
happened to be the axe work; so when I had finished
a neat little orifice, I swung up beside Tommy, and
the Invigorator drove out of the way.

My elevated position was a good one; and as Tommy
was peering eagerly down the hole, I had nothing to
do but survey the scene.

The rigs were drawn up in a semi-circle twenty yards
away. Next the horses’ heads stood the
drivers of the various vehicles, anxious to miss none
of the fun. The dachshunds sat on their haunches,
looking up, and probably wondering why their friend,
Tommy, insisted on roosting up a tree. The Captain
and Charley were immediately below, engaged in an
earnest effort to poke the ’coon into ascending
the hole. Tommy was reporting the result of these
efforts from above. The General, his feet firmly
planted, had unlimbered a huge ten-bore shotgun, so
as to be ready for anything. Uncle Jim stood
by, smoking his pipe. Mithradates Antikamia Briggs
sat sadly apart.

The poking efforts accomplished little. Occasionally
the ’coon made a little dash or scramble, but
never went far. There was a great deal of talking,
shouting, and advice.

At last Uncle Jim, knocking the ashes from his pipe,
moved into action. He plucked a double handful
of the tall, dry grass, touched a match to it, and
thrust it in the nick.

Without the slightest hesitation the ’coon shot
out at the top!

Now just at that moment Tommy happened to be leaning
over for a right good look down the hole.
He received thirty pounds or so of agitated ’coon
square in the chest. Thereupon he fell out of
the tree incontinently, with the ’coon on top
of him.